


Cold

by SamCatsOLD



Series: Tales of Redemption [4]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Everybody is sick, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I hate life, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Matt is sick, Matt is too helpful, Paul and Patryk are tired of Tord's whining, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Sick Character, Tord hates mirrors, Tord is sick, Tord is smol, Tord is so angst, and sicky, it's adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamCatsOLD/pseuds/SamCatsOLD
Summary: Matt is so helpful that he doesn't even realise it





	

After staying with Tom and later Paul and Patryk, Tord hadn’t thought he could be embarrassed or traumatised any further. He was wrong. So very, _very_ wrong. It had started off well, but it had gone unbelievably wrong.

How had it gone so wrong?

Oh, yeah.

“I don’t know, Matt... Your apartment is full of mirrors and he kind of hates those at the moment.”

“Don’t worry, Edd, it’ll be fine!”

It was not fine.

Tord had thought it would be okay. He walked into Matt’s apartment and took the first few minutes to look around. But after glancing into one room covered in mirrors, he decided to stay in the relative safety of the living room. At least in there only Matt was watching him.

The next day, Tord had woken up in his room – he could _see_ the lighter patches on the walls where Matt had removed the mirrors for him. Despite being fully awake, he decided to lay in bed for another hour or so. It was always interesting to him just how thin the walls were in these apartments.

If he listened closely, he could hear the sound of Edd filling Ringo’s food bowl; Paul and Patryk ‘sneaking’ out; the neighbours yelling at something and… growling? Oh, right. Tom.

That was three times in two weeks. Tord would have to ask about that.

But yeah, the walls were really thin. Or maybe it was just the excess amount of metal in Tord’s head. Maybe both.

Eventually he sat up and leaned back against the wall, tugging idly at the new bandages on across his knuckles. Just as he was allowed to remove the ones on his wrist, he decided to punch a mirror. He was usually a lot smarter than that.

After another hour or so of self-loathing, Tord staggered to his feet and across the hall to the bathroom. Matt hadn’t removed the mirror in here, instead setting it on the floor so the Norwegian didn’t have to look at it. Tord was grateful either way.

But despite his common sense telling him to ignore the mirror, he just _had_ to look. For reasons that he couldn’t quite recall.

Tord picked up the mirror and, taking a deep breath, looked into it. It was one of Matt’s mirrors, which meant that there was stickers and odd splotches of – Tord looked a little closer – nail polish… on the edges of it. How did Matt even get that stuff on a mirror?

Tord looked at himself, then, and found himself staring. As much as he wanted to ignore the scarring that had healed but would never fade; the redness of his eye that made him look like a zombie; the missing chunk of his ear, he couldn’t. It took every ounce of his very little willpower to turn away from the mirror and put it down.

He resisted the urge to punch something, instead counting the wires that were visible through the chinks in his robotic arm. It was a habit he’d picked up during the first few weeks of healing to try and distract himself from the pain.

His record was 173. Most of them were repeats that he couldn’t be bothered to double check.

He washed up before heading to the living room, mildly surprised not to see Matt there. Tord looked around for a while before hearing a faint sniffling noise. He followed it to Matt’s bedroom; the door was open and through it he could see Matt himself curled up with a blanket, lacking his hoodie and overcoat to reveal the rarely seen ‘I <3 M@’ shirt underneath. Tord still had no idea where he’d gotten that.

“Uh… are you… okay?” Tord asked nervously, half-hiding behind the door.

Matt looked up, surprise lighting his eyes. “O-oh, hey Tord.” He sniffed. “I’m fine, I just… don’t feel so good today.”

“Oh, okay.”

Tord pulled the door to and stepped back, unsure of what to do next. Eventually he ran off, returning a couple minutes later with a hot cup in his grip. It’d burned his organic hand at first, so he had to hold it with just his robotic one. He could only hope Matt hadn’t changed his milk and sugar preference whilst Tord was away.

He opened the door and stepped inside, causing Matt to look up once again, looking a little less surprised this time.

“I, uh, made you some tea.” Tord said dumbly, walking nervously over to the bed.

To his relief, Matt accepted it gratefully, cupping it in his hands and detangling from the blanket a little.

“Sorry.”

“Huh? What for?”

“You’re my guest; I should be taking care of you. But now, here you are, making me tea because I’m sick.”

Tord felt an odd rush of guilt. Matt wasn’t supposed to be feeling sad; he was supposed to feel warm and loved and everything else that helped you recover. And the Norwegian felt a surprising need to say so.

And so he sat down on the bed beside Matt and told him, “Don’t feel bad. You can’t help it.”

Matt glanced at him with mild surprise.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty. You should feel loved and try to stay happy so that you can recover instead of wallowing in regret over something you couldn’t control.” Tord continued, unbidden.

Matt reached over and placed the tea down carefully on the bedside table. Before Tord could go any further with his self-appreciation speech, he was being knocked backwards and pinned down by the weight of a man much taller than himself.

“What are you doing?” Tord asked, trying vainly to remove his chin from Matt’s shoulder.

“You’re finally figuring it out!” Matt exclaimed. It was a completely unrelated topic, and his voice was muffled by the blanket that had somehow gotten tangled around him again.

“What?” Tord finally managed to free his head, taking a deep breath and attempting to wriggle out of Matt’s grip.

“Everything you just told me.” Matt raised his own head, allowing Tord to sit up slightly. “I’ve been thinking all of that about you for weeks! Edd and… probably Tom, too!”

Tord blinked in surprise, escape attempts momentarily forgotten. “You have?”

“Yes!” Matt confirmed, sitting back and freeing Tord, who backed up against the pillows nervously. “We’ve told you so many times that you’re forgiven, but you still blame yourself! But we just want you to be happy and safe so that you can recover.”

“O-oh.” _That_ was why Edd said his actions were selfish, and why Tom was getting angry at him for being self-destructive.

The rest of the day had been spent waiting for Edd and Tom to return so that Tord could stay with one of them while Matt got better. At least until Tord starting sneezing.

Tord had gotten sick.

And that was why it wasn’t fine.

At least for the two unfortunate men who had to take care of not one, but _two_ sick, whiny men who refused all treatment. Eventually Paul and Patryk had returned and Tord had been handed over to them instead.

Paul and Patryk were used to Tord’s denial of treatment. They were willing to use force.

It was definitely not fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realised that the fics are getting shorter and shorter. The shorter the fluffier.
> 
> The next one must be long! The longer the angstier. Oh God what have I done.


End file.
